


The Killmonger Lives

by theformerladyofshalott



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-07-29 00:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16253084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theformerladyofshalott/pseuds/theformerladyofshalott
Summary: Like Shuri would really let someone die on her watch. Erik Stevens is alive, in a US black site prison and the government wants to know if they can ever turn him loose on the world again, so they call in a professional. Things go-sideways.





	1. The Assessment

The woman was already sitting at the table when he was lead in, shuffling since his ankles were manacled together. She sat patiently, her eyes on him as she waited for him to be seated. “Hello, Mr. Stevens. I’ve been sent here to assess you.” Her eyes flicked to the guards standing on either side of him against the wall. “You may leave, I’ll call you when we’re finished.”  
The younger guard had started shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “No, ma’am. The prisoner is not allowed to be anywhere without a guard present.”  
One of the woman’s eyebrows raised imperiously, “I appreciate that you haven’t had this experience before, but psychological assessments are best conducted with as few witnesses as possible. I’ll wait while you check with the Warden. This has already been arranged.”  
The young guard glanced at the other guard who tipped his head toward the hallway. The young man stepped out and was visible through the window using his radio to call up her request. After a few moment he returned, “It’s like she said, she’s supposed to be left alone with him.” The other guard stared at him, so the young man shrugged and added, “From on high.”  
The older man glanced over at the woman but before he could say anything she spoke up, “If Mr. Stevens decides to kill me, your presence will not stop him.” The guard’s eyebrows raised in surprise. The woman smiled, more a baring of teeth, “I’m aware of Mr. Stevens’ background and skill set.”  
The older guard stared at her for several long moments before nodding, “As you say, ma’am. We’ll be right outside the door.”  
“Thank you.”  
The two men stepped out and closed the door behind them leaving the woman in silence with the prisoner on the opposite side of the table. She inhaled and started again, “As I said, Mr. Stevens, I have been sent here to assess you as the results of the previous attempts were deemed inconclusive.”  
“Because they was morons.” The first words the man had spoken were tossed out contemptuously, the obvious implication being that she was not much different from her predecessors.  
The woman seemingly ignored the statement and continued, “I’ve read all your files and the government has sent me to assess you. I am familiar with your background and skill set as I told the guards, so we’re going to skip straight to the part where I ask you questions and gauge your responses.”  
“So who sent you?”  
“The United States government.”  
The man snorted, “They want you to decide what to do with me?”  
“The government has already decided what they want done, they want me to have a couple sessions with you and declare you fixed, Mr. Stevens, so you can return to the field. You were exceptional among your peers. The government expended a great deal of money on you and they want a return on their investment so they sent me to see if that was feasible.”  
“You gone tell them what they want to hear?”  
“That depends on you.” She shifted in the chair, crossing her legs. “Let’s start with your feelings about your father.” She could swear she saw his lips twitch.


	2. The Injury

It happened in the hallway outside the small room she’d been using to questions Stevens for the past several weeks. One moment there was just the shuffling steps and clanking chains that accompanied Stevens’ trip back to his cell, the next moment the hallway was swarming with armed men in masks. She glanced from where Miller and Ryan had drawn their weapons, still on either side of Stevens, to the hallway behind her. One of the armed men had gotten behind her and before she could move he grabbed her and dragged her against his body, twisting her so she had a good view of the conflict to come. Everything around her seemed to be happening at warp speed while she was only moving at half speed. When her brain caught up, she brought her hands up in an attempt to do something, anything to win her freedom when she felt the knife against her throat.   
The guards were frozen in place, weapons pointing at the intruders. She had her hands in front of her, raised at chest level, the knife at her throat was sharp enough to have her breathing shallowly so as to avoid the press of the blade on her skin. “Free him.” The man holding the knife gestured to Stevens. Miller locked eyes with her, clearly hoping for direction. She tipped her head in a nearly imperceptible nod and Miller reached for the keys to unlock the shackles binding Stevens’ wrists together.  
The only sound in the hallway was the metal rattling as Miller unlocked the shackles and bent to remove the locks on the manacles keeping Stevens from moving at any pace faster than a shuffle. When he was free, Miller stepped back out of range.   
“That was foolish,” she spoke her first words into the silence of the hallway as Stevens rubbed his wrists. “He’s as likely to kill you and your men as he is to kill us.” The man holding the knife used his fistful of hair to tug her head back further. She hoped that she’d be able to keep the man talking long enough to allow more guards to reach them.   
“Why would he want to hurt us, we have just freed him.” The man chuckled, and then turned his attention back to his soldiers. “Kill them.”   
“No!” The word burst from her throat at the same moment that the intruders froze. The guards glanced at them in confusion for a moment before the man holding the knife hauled her back against his body tightly. “What are you doing? Kill them.” When his men didn’t move he grew angrier. He pressed the knife against her throat, drawing blood. “What is happening?” Her eyes didn’t waver from the men pointing weapons at the guards.   
“It’s pretty obvious what’s happening,” Stevens spoke for the first time since the beginning of the hostage situation. “Someone in this hallway is not what they seem.”   
The man’s grip tightened painfully on her hair, “Kill them!”  
Stevens shook his head, “You’re not too bright, man. Someone here has powers. Like Earth’s mightiest defenders. They holding your men still.” He moved casually closer to the intruder nearest to him. “You should probably get out of here while you still can.” She was impressed by how quickly Stevens had figured her out, but she was also terrified of paying too much attention to him. She didn’t use these powers. Ever. She didn’t like to admit they existed. She wasn’t a hero. She was a therapist. With connections to heroes.   
The knife dropped from her throat and for a moment she thought the man might be listening to Stevens’ advice, then she felt it being jammed into her abdomen. Her concentration faltered and the soldiers started to move before she regained control. The knife was removed and shoved back in several more times. Every time the knife plunged back in, her control wavered. She managed to drop two of the soldiers in a herculean effort, leaving it three against the two guards. Stevens’ gaze hadn’t left the man holding her during the whole interlude. The man released her and she collapsed forward onto her knees. She must have blacked out for a moment because when she became aware of her surroundings again, she was on her back with Stevens kneeling over her, applying pressure to her abdomen which felt curiously cold.   
“Welcome back, Doc. Try to stay awake now. Help is coming.” Stevens tipped his head in the direction of the Miller and Ryan who were restraining the intruders with zip ties while Miller was talking to someone on his radio. Her head rolled weakly back in his direction.   
“I’m dying.” She was strangely unaffected by the thought. She wondered if it was the blood loss making everything seem so distant or if it was her body’s attempt to dissociate from the pain.  
“Nah, you gone be fine. The prison doctor will be here any second, he’s real used to stab wounds.”   
“Dying.” She inhaled shallowly. “Tell Sam...tell...it was quick.” She was struggling to get the words out. “Promise.”   
“Who’s Sam?” Stevens’ eyes were steady on hers.  
“Brother. Falcon.”  
“Falcon? Captain America’s friend?” She nodded, it was easier than trying to speak. “I’ve seen him, there’s no way he’s your brother.”  
“Family,” she insisted. “Brother.” The last word came out more like a gasp as Stevens adjusted his hands on her wound. The edges of her vision were getting darker.   
“Stay awake, Doc.” He looked away and without his eyes to focus on, her eyelids started drooping. He was looking at the guards, “Yo, call whichever guard is from Wakanda now.” Miller and Ryan looked over at him. Miller was holding the radio, seemingly frozen by indecision. “She’s going to die. The Wakandan will be able to save her. I know there’s no way my cousins let me get brought here without a War Dog to keep an eye on me. If you don’t call him, it’s on you when she bleeds out.” She’d tipped her head to the side to see what Stevens was looking at, so the guards could see her pale face as she struggled to stay awake.   
Ryan reached over and tugged the radio out of Miller’s hands. “Get Riker up here ASAP.” His voice sounded tinny and far away, further than the ten feet down the hallway he was actually kneeling.  
“Cassandra.” Stevens voice was very serious. She struggled to keep her eyes on his, waiting for what he was trying to say. She had a moment to worry about the people she was leaving behind before everything went black.   
She was vaguely aware of voices moving around her. She moved, trying to open her eyes and get away from whatever was pressing down so heavily against her. “Get over here and hold her down.” The voice was young and female and vaguely familiar. She still wanted the weight off her body, so she didn’t stop, even when she felt hands on her shoulders. “Hold still, Doc, or you gone undo all the Princess’ hard work.” The voice was familiar and amused so she stopped struggling and tried to remember who it belonged to and why they were talking about a princess. She felt the prick of a needle in her arm and everything went dark again.


	3. The Recovery

The next time she woke up, she was lying on her back with a blanket tucked around her torso, her hands resting on top of the blanket. She blinked a few times blearily before things around her came into focus. She knew in a moment that she must be in Wakanda, because nowhere in America looked like that. Certainly not anywhere medicine was practiced, at least. She inhaled experimentally. Her abdomen didn’t hurt. The skin felt taut, but unbroken. After a few moments of breathing in and out, she moved her hands, sliding them back to get her forearms flat on the bed to try and leverage herself into a sitting position. As soon as she moved her arms, someone came around the corner.   
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Doc.” Stevens was leaning against the wall looking down at her when Shuri came bustling around the corner.   
“Oh, good. You’re awake. How do you feel?”   
She sat up cautiously, taking a moment to assess her body. “Thirsty.” Her voice came out hoarse and huskier than usual.   
Shuri waved dismissively at Stevens, “Go get her something to drink.”   
Suddenly she realized why the voices from before had sounded so familiar. It had been Princess Shuri and Stevens talking over her.   
Stevens disappeared again so she focused on Shuri, “What happened?” The Princess was wearing a vibrant red ensemble, and her braids were pulled back out of her face. She looked cheerful for someone who must have done a lot of work to keep her alive.   
“You were stabbed. You almost died. My cousin called the War Dog--”   
“Riker,” she interrupted, “Is he here too?”  
“--And they used a Kimoyo bead to stabilize you and bring you here. Yes Riker is here, his assignment was to watch my cousin. Who is now here.” She shook her head. “He’ll probably be given a new assignment.” She shrugged, “Or not, something tells me that my cousin is going to be much harder to keep track of now.”   
She focused on what she considered the most important part of Shuri’s statement. “He saved my life.”  
Shuri’s eyebrows went up, “Yes.” The younger woman’s head tilted to the side as she studied Cassie. Stevens returned from wherever he’d gone with a tumbler that he carried to her side. She reached for it and her eyes met his when he didn’t let go immediately. “I’d like you to stay for at least a few days so I can make sure you don’t have any issues or side effects from your injuries.” Cassie and Stevens both looked over at the diminutive princess.   
“Is that likely?”   
“I thought y’all were technically superior to the rest of the world.” Stevens was leaning a hip against the bed.   
Shuri flipped a middle finger in Stevens’ direction before refocusing on Cassie. “It isn’t likely that you will have any issues, but I’d like to monitor you daily for the next couple days to be sure that there aren’t any problems. You’re one of the few people I like, I would like to keep you among the living.”  
Cassie grinned at the other woman, “I consider that an honor.” She shifted slightly away from the heat radiating from Stevens body, “And if you want me to stay, I will. Just tell me where I’m sleeping.”   
“I’ll show her, cuz,” Stevens grinned at Shuri who looked only mildly annoyed. Given the fact that Stevens had tried to kill both Shuri and her beloved brother, Cassie was surprised Shuri hadn’t cooked up a nasty treat for him.   
“Fine. You can show her to her room. But,” she turned her eyes to Cassie, “You’re not to strain yourself. You just woke up. You should relax for the rest of the day. Erik will tell you where to go for dinner. You can eat with the family. I’ll be here in my lab if you need me.” She turned away and went back to the work table she had been sitting at when Cassie woke up.   
“Dismissed, just like that, Doc.” Stevens grinned down at her, revealing the gold fangs on his lower teeth. Her eyes dipped to them, then back up to his eyes.   
She hesitated, unsure what to say. Her mouth opened, then closed, opened again, “You’ll show me where to go?” His expression didn’t change, but it suddenly seemed more alert, predatory, than a moment earlier. She swung her legs off the edge of the bed on the side Stevens was standing. He stepped in front of her. Her eyes raised back to meet his. Maintaining the eye contact, he reached out and lifted her off the bed by her hips and set her on the floor in front of him, sliding her down the length of his body. A shiver chased down her spine. This time she knew she wasn’t imagining the predatory gleam in his eyes.   
“Your room’s this way.” He stepped back and started walking, not glancing back to see if she was following him.


	4. The Confrontation

Stevens lead her through the halls, pointing out various intersections and explaining how to remember the way back to Shuri’s lab. Eventually they reached a long hallway that ended in a window overlooking the city. He turned right into one of the rooms off the hallway, not saying anything to her.   
She had followed him silently the whole way, waiting for him to say something meaningful, but he’d said as little as possible, outside of directions. She closed the door behind them, determined to have a private conversation with the former soldier.   
“Are you going to explain?” She sat down on the edge of the ridiculously luxurious bed exhausted from the long walk, and watched Stevens prowl around the room, looking in the doors and checking out her view. Clearly her body was not recovered from nearly dying just yet.   
“Explain what?” He didn’t look at her as he continued his sweep of the room.   
“Why you saved me?” When he still refused to look at her, she stood up and walked in front of him. “I know more about you than any person alive, I would have thought you’d stab me yourself given the first opportunity.”   
“Maybe I want you to fix me, Doc.” He grinned at her and the sight of the gold fangs peeking from his lower lip made her stomach flip.   
“Bullshit,” she said flatly. His expression didn’t change. “You don’t think you’re wrong so you don’t believe you need ‘fixed’, try again.” When he didn’t immediately respond, she rolled her eyes and moved to take a step away from him.   
“I am serious.” He reached out and grabbed her by the hips, holding her in place. “You ain’t afraid of me. Half the guards in that place was pissin’ themselves any time they had to get near me and you didn’t even hesitate to be left alone with me. Hell right now I got my hands on you and you ain’t even look a little scared.”   
“It’s like I told the guards that first day, I am very familiar with your background and skill set, if you wanted to kill me at close quarters, you would. I’d have no chance of stopping you.”   
“That was before we knew you had powers.”  
“I have never used them before.” She was staring directly into his eyes, willing him to believe, to understand something she didn’t fully understand herself. “I never wanted--never needed to. That...stuff leads to a life I don’t want.”   
He pursed his lips and nodded thoughtfully. His thumbs were rubbing against her sides. Half his mouth turned up in a smile, “You kept coming to do your assessment. Calling me mister Stevens.”   
She rolled her eyes, “You mean doing my job?”   
“You know you were the only woman on site not wearing fatigues and a combat helmet? You had to know what the inmates were thinking about you.” His gaze swept down her body. “What they was imagining.”   
She pressed her lips together in a firm line before replying, “If I had come into contact with the other inmates, I can imagine what they might have been thinking, but I only came to see you. And I believed that you had other concerns than picturing me naked.”   
He pressed his whole body against hers, spinning them and pressing her against the wall. “You were the first woman I saw in three years, of course I imagined you naked. I imagined you on your knees in front of me, I imagined you bent over the table. I imagined lots of things. You had to know that.” He slid one of his hands up her side. She went very still. “I want to make sure you’re healed, Doc, because I want you to keep working with me, on me.” He moved his fingertips over to the place where she’d been stabbed, dragging callused fingertips against the smooth skin. She shuddered. He rolled his hips forward, pressing himself against her. She could feel him, hard against her.   
She took a moment to be honest with herself. She had been attracted to him from the moment he had shuffled into the room she was to use during the assessment. She told herself it was hormones and she could ignore them. He was without a doubt the most dangerous man she’d ever met, and that made her interest insane. She was not in the habit of making insouciant decisions. She lived a careful, boring life. Aside from this favor to a friend, she had not been in so much danger ever. She was renowned in her field for her work with the most dangerous of killers, but she was always careful to keep the upper hand in her interactions with inmates. Guards in the room, questions not designed to provoke the monsters lurking under the surface but to draw out their ego and make them garrulous. She’d known from the beginning that Erik Stevens was too smart for his own good, and probably for hers. And yet she had stayed, because Sam had asked her. There weren’t many things she wouldn’t do for Sam Wilson and he knew it. He’d only asked her for a favor like this once before.   
Her first meeting with Princess Shuri had been years before to consult on a treatment plan for one Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. And after that they’d kept in contact. Their areas of expertise didn’t really overlap, but they both enjoyed the company of someone who could keep up with their mental gymnastics. She’d been upset to learn that Shuri and her brother had almost died at the hands of one Erik Stevens alias Killmonger. When Sam had asked her to complete the assessment as a favor to the US Government, the Avengers, and Shuri, she hadn’t given much thought to the possibility that she might feel something other than disgust for the soldier who had tried a coup over the small country. What she had learned reading the information that Shuri had compiled for her had made her approach her interview more thoughtfully.   
But that was all before. Before he saved her life and put his hands and his body on hers. She needed to respond to him, but he had her all twisted up in knots and she didn’t know if it was from the near death experience or the nearness of his body. A man who she could not outmaneuver physically, or mentally--if she were being totally honest with herself and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be at this point. She forced herself to speak before he could say anything else, more inflammatory.. “If you are serious,” she exhaled in a rush when his hips moved again. “If you really want me to be your doctor and to try and help you, this can’t happen.” He dropped the hand not at her side between them. He rubbed his hand against her and she almost whimpered.   
“Why not?” He didn’t sound remotely interested in her answer.   
She sighed loudly, “Because not sleeping with patients is kind of rule number one for therapists. It blurs-” She bit her lower lip when he slid his fingers lower inside her pants, “It blurs lines that should be very clear in that situation.” She knew he was toying with her. He knew that she knew. She only wondered where he was taking things.   
“You want me.” It wasn’t a question, his fingers had slid all the way into her pants, his hand was cupped around her. He could feel how wet she was against his bare skin. His hand slid against her, dragging a finger through her folds and up around to press on her clit.   
She actually moaned at the sensation, before inhaling sharply, “I’m serious, Erik. If you want me to treat you, we cannot do this. Not now, not at any point when I’m your doctor.” Her heart was racing, her cheeks were flushed, and she knew that having his fingers on her was not helping her convince him of her point.   
He grinned, flashing those gold fangs at her, “Erik? Are you sure about that, Doc?” She winced at the sound of him repeating his own name back to her. She had never called him Erik. Not once in all the weeks she’d been visiting the prison. She hadn’t even called him by his name when she thought she was dying, bleeding out in that narrow institutional hallway.   
This was a terrible idea and she knew it. She also knew that the odds of Erik Stevens agreeing to therapy with anyone else were negative. The fact that he’d asked her--even if he didn’t mean it and it was part of an as of yet undisclosed ploy--meant Satan and his demons were probably having a snowball fight.   
His fingers shifted again, “Hey Doc, stop thinking so hard.” She swallowed reflexively as he moved his fingers against her. “You don’t want this?”   
She knew this was the moment to assert herself. If she really wanted to help him, see Erik Stevens leading a contented life, one with less murder, she would need to establish the ground rules. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want you.” She locked eyes with him, “And we both know it. But I am serious about this. If you want me to be your doctor, if you want me to keep working with you, then you have to stop. You cannot touch me like this until we’ve agreed I’m not your doctor anymore.” Erik looked down at her for several long moments before leaning and inhaling deeply. He dragged his tongue up the side of her neck and she finally lost the battle against herself and lifted her hands off the wall to settle on his shoulders.   
He lifted his head again, a devilish grin on his face and tugged his hand out of her pants, “Okay, Doc, you win. I’ll behave and abide by your hands off policy.” He stepped back and left her leaning against the wall blinking in the face of his sudden change of pace. “But once I’m fixed. All bets are off.” The look on his face made her grateful she was still leaning back against the wall for support.


	5. The Dinner

Cassie had sat through her fair share of awkward meals, but this was probably the worst she’d ever experienced. If it had just been her, Shuri, and Erik, it might not have been as bad. The addition of T’Challa, Nakia, and Ramonda along with the presence of the Dora, made it the most tension she had ever felt in a room.   
Erik had clearly not spent enough time tormenting her for his satisfaction because he kept touching her. Small brushes of his hand against her arm, reaching over her to grab things or pass them. T’Challa watched every point of contact with narrowed eyes that told Cassie she’d be hearing about this situation from Sam sooner rather than later. Cassie was also fairly sure that Shuri was already texting Peter about the situation under the table.   
The tension was borderline unbearable. Putting aside the fact that she was uncomfortably warm from Erik’s teasing after their earlier encounter in the bedroom; the scrutiny from everyone else at the table was painful. Ramonda had been glaring at Erik steadily, a fact he refused to acknowledge. Nakia, on the other hand, seemed calm. She would periodically set a hand on T’Challa’s thigh and they’d smile at one another in a way that made Cassie’s heart clench.   
She shot Erik a glare when his hand made a particularly lingering trip over and past her wrist for some sort of seasoning sitting on the table. “So what has changed your mind and made you decide to stop trying to unseat and murder the rightful king of Wakanda?” Everyone at the table stopped eating to watch either Ramonda or Erik. Cassie refused to play a part in the farce by taking another bite of her meal.   
Erik leaned back in his chair, deliberately casual and slung an arm over the back of Cassie’s chair, “The Doc here is fixing me.” Cassie’s head slowly turned, and her expression would have frozen a lesser man. Erik was predictably unaffected. “Ain’t that right, Doc?”   
“Yes,” Cassie said dryly, “You seem so interested in what I have to say about your mental state.”   
Shuri laughed and spoke before anyone else could say another word, “I think she is the perfect doctor for you. If anyone can fix you, she can.” Nakia bit her lower lip and was obviously trying not to smile. Even T’Challa seemed begrudgingly pleased by Cassie’s response.   
“We shall see.” A derisive noise along with the words was Ramonda’s only response.   
Cassie sighed and leaned back in her chair, “As it happens, I have agreed to work with Stevens.”  
Shuri sat up straighter in her seat and exchanged glances with Nakia. T’Challa smiled for the first time during the meal before speaking, “I know the perfect place.” Cassie considered that suspicious but since the tension at the table lessened after the interaction, she didn’t say anything further on the subject, allowing the conversation at the table to turn to more innocuous subjects. The meal still seemed to last a long time, but after they finished eating, Ramonda retired to another part of the palace without a backward glance for Cassie or Erik and the others moved to a small room nearby that was comfortably furnished.   
The younger group chatted amiably for a few minutes. She was updated about Riker and told that he was pleased to be reunited with his family after so long and especially pleased to be out of the prison. The Wakandans had a lot of opinions about the American Penal system that Cassie couldn’t disagree with; the conversation never devolved into an argument and she enjoyed the company of people who were her equal mentally. It wasn’t often that she found herself with a true group of peers.   
Eventually the conversation swung back around to her and Erik, who had been remarkably calm the entire evening. His laid-back attitude had been like at itch somewhere in the back of her skull the whole time. She still didn’t have any idea what he was planning and if she were honest with herself, she was more than a little worried that even if she did know she wouldn’t be able to do anything to influence his behavior in one direction or another; a terrible thing for a therapist to have to admit to herself. Though she hadn’t really been practicing all that much recently. She’d applied herself more to the research side of her field, finding the workings of the human brain all the more fascinating when she didn’t have to confront the reality of what those workings caused in the real world.   
She enjoyed the comfort and anonymity of academia. She could admit to herself that she had been hiding. Keeping herself somewhere she was more or less certain would never force her to reveal her hidden talents. Or need them. She was happier continuing her life as the same person she’d been for the last twenty-odd years than the person she’d become in the last few.   
“About the place I have for you,” T’Challa’s voice interrupted Cassie’s train of thought. “It’s in the forest, very hard to find.” Shuri looked thoughtful. Clearly, she knew the place T’Challa meant.   
“So, you’re sending me to a cabin in the woods with your serial killer cousin?” Cassie asked dryly.   
T’Challa grinned loftily at her, “It’s a cottage that will suit your needs. It’s secluded and there’s enough bedrooms for you, my cousin and Riker.”   
“You ain’t sending your dog with us.” It was the first thing Erik had added to the conversation about his treatment. He’d gone from fairly relaxed, to tension coiling in his muscles.   
Cassie didn’t want to witness a fight between the Black Panther and a highly trained Black Ops soldier in person, so she set a hand on Erik’s thigh to forestall any movement and spoke to T’Challa, “I’d appreciate having a familiar face around, especially if this cottage really is difficult to access.” She could feel Erik studying the side of her face as the rest of the room waited to hear if and how he would respond to her pronouncement. She refused to look in his direction and tried not to think about the firm muscles of his thigh under her palm.   
He leaned further back in his seat, locking his fingers around her wrist and lazily responded, “Well if it’ll make the Doc feel better. I guess he’d better come along.” He slid his thumb in a stroke across her wrist. T’Challa’s eyes were narrowed again and she sighed inwardly, knowing she’d be hearing from Sam very soon about both her proximity to Stevens and her near death experience. It wasn’t a conversation she was looking forward to having. She truly considered Sam her brother and he considered her a sister. Consequently, he could be very annoying.   
A sudden wave of exhaustion hit her. Even the limited amount of effort she’d had to put forth to remain upright for her meal had strained her reserves. Shuri might have saved her life, but she hadn’t been kidding when she told Cassie to take it easy. She stood suddenly and the others stopped speaking to look at her. Stevens hadn’t been participating in the conversation after agreeing to Riker’s continued presence in his life and he stood with her, almost as though he’d anticipated her movement. Which he may very well have done, given that he’d retained his grip on her wrist. “I’m sorry, I need to go to bed. I guess almost dying took more out of me than I thought.” She grinned sleepily at the others and turned to leave the room, shadowed by Stevens.   
T’Challa murmured something and Stevens responded without turning to look at him, “Imma make sure she finds her room.” After several hallways she was swaying instead of standing upright and Stevens wordlessly reached out and lifted her into his arms. The last thing she was aware of was him speaking to her in a low voice as he carried her to her room, “I got you, Doc.”


	6. The Cabin

After several days in the palace, Shuri agreed that Cassie was probably fine to leave and move out to the cottage. T’Challa had shown her the location on a map, but honestly, if it wasn’t a city, Cassie was pretty useless with directions. She had a vague idea of where things were but Wakanda was so far out of her usual experience that even seeing the map wouldn’t do her any good. She was doubly glad that Erik had backed down regarding Riker’s presence because she wanted to be sure that they would have help if they needed it. She didn’t think Shuri or T’Challa would ever intentionally put her in danger, but she didn’t imagine the regular citizens of Wakanda were particularly fond of The Usurper (as Queen Mother Ramonda referred to Erik).   
The journey to the cabin itself was less pleasant that she might have hoped because she hated flying. She realized ruefully that she was almost grateful that she’d been unconscious from blood loss on her trip to Wakanda. Something about flying made her stomach unsettled. It was a running joke between her and Sam, her fear and dislike of flying was about equal to his love of the experience. She frowned a little at the thought of Sam. She’d been ignoring his calls for days. Shuri had handed her a phone the first day after she had woken up. It was high tech and slightly terrifying, but it was a phone, with all the usual features. She’d sent Sam a couple texts, but she dodged his calls, pretending she was busy doing Wakandan things. She’d been very vague about what those things might be. Mostly because she wasn’t really doing much of anything.   
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Sam, it was more because he had become a brother to her and with her blood brother gone and her parents retired; Sam considered himself a protector as well. She was certain that being stabbed had cemented the idea that she needed a keeper in his brain. She didn’t want a keeper, so she kept dodging his calls and saying nothing about the fact that she was planning to go to a remote location with someone who was in essence a serial killer.   
Her most important belongings had showed up a few days into her stay in Wakanda. She had eyed Shuri suspiciously but hadn’t asked any questions about how exactly someone had gotten into her house and packed her things in her own suitcase. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. She did appreciate having her own clothes. She did wish, however, that whoever had packed her things had included a few more professional options for clothing because she had a feeling she was going to need the extra barrier for her “sessions” with Erik. They hadn’t however, and she was stuck with her usual wardrobe of leggings, jeans and a series of tanks and cardigans.   
The cabin was situated far away from the rest of the populated areas of Wakanda, almost invisible among the woods on the mountainside. They hadn’t actually landed anywhere near the cabin and had hiked a good distance to reach it. Oddly enough, the distance and terrain made her feel much better about her chances of making it through without herself or Stevens being attacked by a disgruntled Wakandan. Knowing Riker would also be staying in the cabin with them was comforting. She didn’t know the War Dog very well, but she felt infinitely more comfortable with him than she would have felt staying alone in the cabin with her “patient”.   
She wasn’t even sure where to start. Her questions during her sessions with Stevens in the prison had been designed to draw a response from him. She wanted to see how he reacted to certain stimuli and then use that information to formulate her assessment for the government. She had done all the necessary research into his background before ever setting foot in the prison and with the wealth of knowledge she’d gained, she was unsure what angle to take when speaking to Stevens. She was especially concerned since she was positive that Stevens wasn’t particularly interested in therapy at all. The fact that she had no idea what Stevens wanted or how he planned to accomplish his desires made her very nervous. The only thing she knew for sure that Stevens wanted was her. And honestly, she wasn’t sure that he was even serious about that desire. Basically, all her research had given her nothing. She was sure that she could predict how Stevens might react to basic scenarios, but she had no idea what was really going on in his head and that made her incredibly nervous. She had, prior to this point, done her best to avoid situations of active danger. Staying anywhere near Stevens, given his history and her response to him on a physical level, was dangerous—and honestly stupid.   
Still, she’d agreed to remain his therapist and that entailed sessions where she tried to guide him into healthier thought patterns. She chewed her lower lip as she considered possible treatment plans. His government training might have been the worst thing in the world for his mental state as far as she was concerned. Though, she couldn’t imagine how they could possibly have refused someone with his background and skill set. The level of intelligence Stevens possessed would have been intimidating even if she weren’t planning on digging around in his brain.   
She shifted her weight on the fallen tree she was sitting on in the middle of the modest clearing not far from the cabin. She’d retreated almost immediately after T’Challa, Nakia, and Okoye had left them. She didn’t want to be present if Riker and Stevens decided to get into a pissing match over the rooms. She’d dumped her bags on the bed in a room that overlooked a bubbling creek that ran past the cabin and decamped for the clearing, leaving the men to sort themselves and their rooming arrangements themselves. She’d folded her legs up under her and was perched on a fallen log, listening to the unfamiliar sounds of exotic birds and running water. She didn’t have a plan, possibly for the first time in her life. She was going to be taking every day as it came. And she hated it. Almost as much as she hated her—what had Stevens called them—powers.   
That was the real reason she was sitting out in the clearing by herself. She didn’t want to think about the bane of her existence, she really didn’t want to think about it with Riker and Stevens around. Both were freakishly observant, and she didn’t want to answer questions when she didn’t have answers for herself. Ever since the accident she’d been doing her best to pretend that everything was normal when it was anything but. She had done a decent job. Until her brother had died and she’d lost control. Sam was the only person who’d known the truth. Until the hallway. Until Stevens had outed her without a second thought. He wasn’t afraid of her though, he didn’t even seem impressed. Of course, he had no idea what she was actually capable of doing because she’d done her best to make sure no one knew. Hell, she wasn’t even sure what her limitations might be, and she didn’t know that she wanted to start testing them. She thought she might need to. After what had happened in the hallway, she realized that she needed to be prepared. And spending time out in the middle of nowhere gave her a golden opportunity to figure things out without putting anyone else at risk.   
Her decision made about her own situation, her thoughts turned back to Stevens. Since she’d already spent an embarrassing amount of time considering their arrangement, she just shook her head and decided to stick to her previously decided plan of action: be cautious and try her best to actually treat him until she figured out what he really wanted. She sighed loudly and shifted her feet back to the ground at the same time that Stevens appeared silently out of the woods from the opposite direction of the cabin. She didn’t jump, but it was a close thing and her heart was beating double time. All she said though, was, “Sorted out the rooming arrangements?” When he didn’t answer, she glanced over at his face and realized he was frowning at her, “What?”   
He just looked down at her for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face before he finally spoke, “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”   
She laughed. “You’re serious?” She shook her head at him, “We’re out in the middle of nowhere, no one knows we’re here except your cousins and the General.” She stood, genuinely irritated with him, “And, if anyone is going to be the target of assassins, it’s certainly not me.” She started walking in the direction of the cabin, her footsteps a little heavier than necessary, “After all, I haven’t taken part in any unsuccessful coup attempts.”   
His hand shot out and snagged her by the upper arm, tugging her close, “I’m not the only one with a past. What you did in that hallway wasn’t exactly innocuous, Doc.”   
Her temper redlined. She yanked her arm loose. “I’m not talking about that.”   
“C’mon, Doc. You know everything about me.” His voice was deceptively even, but she could see the way the corners of his mouth were tight.   
Too angry to be cautious or professional, she barely managed to keep her voice under a yell, “I know all about you because you are a criminal. You tried to take over a country and you killed a literal shit-ton of people. I read your file because you might be completely unredeemable, and I was supposed to find out if you could ever function like a normal human again. So the situations are not comparable. At all.” She walked a few steps away, pretending she hadn’t seen something akin to hurt flash across his face when she started speaking, “And furthermore, what I did could be considered self-defense. Especially since it got me stabbed. Repeatedly.”   
“I remember what happened.” Stevens’ eyes were cold. “I also remember saving your ass.”   
She felt herself softening a little bit, but she had no intention of discussing her powers or how she’d attained them with anyone, let alone Stevens, so she pushed on, “And I thanked you for that. But it doesn’t mean that I’m going to give you my life story just because you ask. I don’t trust you. I don’t know what you want with me but I’m pretty damn sure it’s not therapy.”   
He closed the distance between them lazily and backed her against a tree. He kept his hands off her, leaning his weight on the one hand braced against the tree beside her head, the other hand in the pocket of his cargo pants. “You know exactly what I want from you. I was pretty clear, I thought, what with my fingers being damn near in that wet pussy of yours.” His eyes were locked on her face, checking for any change of expression.   
Her spine straightened instinctively, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “You might want sex, but that’s not your primary interest in me. I’m not dumb enough to believe that. But don’t bother telling me what you want. I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually.” She ducked under his arm and stomped back to the cabin where Riker greeted her temperamental entrance with a confused glance.


	7. Settling In

The first few days in the Cabin were mostly awkward. As they worked around one another and got used to living with two other strangers, there were more than a few little arguments and tense moments. Inevitably, if Cassie was in the room, she would try to diffuse the tension. Though the responsibility of being the peacekeeper made her cranky.  
She tried to fit in regularly scheduled sessions with Erik, but he wouldn’t talk to her about anything in front of Riker, and he would routinely disappear from the cabin at the times that she laid out in advance as therapy times. Not surprising, but still aggravating. If she hadn’t felt as though she owed her life to the man, she might have been tempted to throttle him. It was still a close thing some days. Adding to her irritation was the fact that he kept trying to turn the sessions back on her whenever she did manage to corner him. He would ask questions about her powers, though thankfully for his sake, never in Riker’s presence. She wasn’t sure what she would do if he outed her, but she was sure it wouldn’t be pleasant. He also kept asking why she considered Sam family. The subject of her relationship with Sam was a close second to her powers in terms of things she didn’t want to discuss so she dodged his questions, making him almost as surly as her. He also got angry when she refused to explain why she hadn’t just killed the men at the prison, dropping them where they stood. As this question was adjacent to discussion of her powers, she practiced selective hearing when he started ranting about her survival instincts, or lack thereof.  
She wasn’t sure why he was so interested in her and she hadn’t gotten the slightest hint of what he might be planning for his future in the time they’d spent together or in the cabin with Riker. As far as she knew the only time the two men spent alone together was when they would disappear into the jungle to hunt. After the first few times she had declined to join them, or touch anything they brought back, they stopped discussing their trips with her. Usually, one of them would poke a head into whichever room she happened to be in to tell her they were going ‘out’. An interesting euphemism given that everywhere else in the world, the phrase would imply that they were going somewhere specific, but as far as she could tell they just ambled through the jungle trying their luck and skill against predators and prey evenly.  
The fact that Erik came back from said jaunts in a considerably more relaxed frame of mind concerned her. Killing things as a release was not something any therapist could consider a healthy outlet, even if they were just animals. She didn’t want to suggest the men pit their skills against one another, even in a friendly match, so she let the matter lie, even though it made her uneasy.  
Any time that she felt that she was too focused on Erik—in a non-professional capacity—she turned to work. She’d made a name for herself in her field as a consultant and her peers often sent requests for assistance or a second set of eyes on cases over to her. The fact that she had highly specialized government clearance meant that people who couldn’t normally look for a second opinion flooded her with requests because they were so pleased to have a fellow professional at their clearance level.  
As the three settled into something of a routine, she found herself becoming more and more irritated with Erik’s evasiveness. Instead of having a meltdown and responding in a completely unprofessional manner, she spent several days dodging him nearly as successfully as he dodged intended therapy sessions. She figured that the adage ‘you catch more flies with honey’ applied in this particular situation. Also, the more energy she focused on Erik, the more her world shrunk to her interactions with him and made his response an issue of more importance than she would have felt if they’d been in a more traditional setting. One that allowed for distance.  
That was the real crux of her issue with the cabin. There was nowhere to go. Not really. She’d realized after the first day that every time she stepped into the forest one of the men would shadow her until she returned. She didn’t mention it because she didn’t believe in fighting losing battles, but she found the knowledge irksome because they found so little common ground. And the more time she spent with Erik the more distance she wanted. She’d never felt attracted to someone she was attempting to treat before. A momentary flash of physical attraction maybe, but she always shut off the emotion and responded with the professionalism the minute a session began. Peeking into the dark crevices of another person’s brain made it hard to sustain attraction. Unfortunately, she was having the opposite response to Stevens. The more she learned about the man, the more deeply involved she became. Before she had wanted to rehabilitate him because he was Shuri’s family and however little the other woman wanted to acknowledge it, she was lonely. There weren’t many people who could keep up with Shuri’s brain and the strain of suppressing her personality made it hard for her to find true friends. Stevens was not lacking in intelligence, and assuming they could move past the murder attempts, they had a lot in common. The irreverent humor the two shared would be an excellent basis for a relationship if Erik could be just a little less murder-y.  
The more time she spent with the man, the more Cassie wanted him to have a healthier mindset for his sake. She wanted him to be a better man, a happier man. Because he wasn’t happy. She’d never seen him happy and wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt happy in his adult life. She was afraid to ask because the closest he’d probably ever come had been during his ‘kingship’ of Wakanda. And that hadn’t been a lasting experience.  
Annoyed at the amount of time she spent considering her only true patient, she turned to the files from peers. She didn’t know how Shuri had configured her laptop to allow her contact to the outside world and she didn’t want to ask questions. If she knew Shuri, everything that passed through her devices was probably being recorded for the genius, but if it wasn’t said to her, she could feign ignorance.  
Also hiding in her laptop was the security video from the attack in the hallway. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to watch it. Every time she thought about it, she swore the skin of her stomach where she’d been stabbed went cold. She was aware it was a psychosomatic response, but she didn’t want to consider it too deeply. Shuri had healed her. It was over. And if she sometimes woke, sweating in the night, that was another topic she had no intention of discussing with the man who woke her, moving like a ghost through the darkness of her bedroom.


	8. When the Lights Go On Again

Cassie hummed to herself along with the music as she scribbled notes on the file she’d printed off her laptop. Every time sessions with Erik got too intense, she gave herself a break by responding to her colleagues’ requests for help. In this case, the file she was reading belonged to a serial killer who was claiming to have Dissociative Identity Disorder. True cases of DID were extremely rare and she wasn’t finding any evidence that the man in question had multiple personalities. It was more likely he was just hoping to be spared a stay on Death Row. 

She didn’t even hear Stevens enter the room. His years working for the United States government had ingrained the noiseless movement into him too thoroughly to break the habit now. Though she might curse him internally when he snuck up on her, she never wanted him to know how much it truly bothered her for fear of his response. “Turn that shit off.”

She didn’t glance in his direction, “Is it the music or the sentiment you object to?”

She found herself spun around in the chair to face him. He was leaning in, “Neither. It makes me want to bend you over this table and show you what it’s really like when a man comes home from war.” His voice was low and gravelly. The sound practically sent a shiver down her spine. The weeks of close quarters were getting to her. She was eternally grateful to Riker for continuing to stay with them. She had a very bad feeling that her professionalism wouldn’t be enough to keep her from touching Erik without the added deterrent of another human presence. 

Her eyes locked on his and she had to physically restrain herself from licking her lips because she knew he’d interpret that as an invitation. He tucked his chin and stared straight down her shirt at her breasts. She could feel her nipples tightening under his scrutiny and her hands tightened on the chair almost imperceptibly. She stood abruptly, pressing the whole of her body against his for a long moment before he finally stepped back.

She stepped over and fiddled with the knob on the stereo system, trying to find anything else. Eventually she just hit the button to skip the song, closing her eyes at the feel of Erik’s hands ghosting up her sides before pulling away. She took several centering breaths, trying to regain the sense of peace she’d had while reading the file. Before he’d touched her, she’d been calm, cool, collected; a consummate professional. Now she was lucky she hadn’t begged him to bend her over the table and show her exactly what he meant. The sessions were getting to her and the worst part was that she was almost positive he wasn’t equally affected. The more time she spent with the man, the more she saw past the veneer of rage, hostility and barely restrained violence to the man he might have been, could still become. And the more frustrated she became that she wasn’t making any progress with him. 

The more time she spent with him, the more involved she got, the more she cared. She cared a lot about Erik Stevens, and the realization made her more than a little cranky. “Can’t you go for a walk or something?” She glanced over at where Stevens was leaning lazily against the wall near the window in time to catch the corner of his mouth tipping up. 

“And deprive you of my company, Doc?” She shot him a scathing look and returned to her seat at the table, pretending that his presence wasn’t affecting her in any way.  


“Wouldn’t that be a shame? I might actually get some work done for people who will respond to my suggestions in a positive manner.” She snagged her chair and tugged it to the other side of the table before sitting again and reaching for her file. Erik set his hand flat on the stack of papers and waited, patiently, for her to look at him. She hadn’t heard him cross the room. She sighed dramatically and leaned back in her chair before raising her eyes to his. “What?”  


“You think I don’t respond to you in a positive manner?” He was oddly focused. She took a measured moment to think out her response.  


“I think you don’t respond to my suggestions in a positive manner.” She spun her pen idly in one hand. “And frankly, sexual responsiveness is not necessarily positive.”  
“Don’t I listen to you talk at me all the time?” He demanded.  


“That’s the issue. That right there sums it up,” she twisted her hair up into a loose bun, reaching for a hair tie on her wrist and coming up empty. She scanned the table before letting out a frustrated huff of a sigh and dropping her hair. “You said I ‘talk at you’, it’s not a conversation. You are not an engaged party.” She pushed her chair back to stand up and shift her piles of work around the desk searching for a hair tie. “You asked me to give you therapy and you don’t show any sign of wanting to participate in said therapy.”  


Erik was suddenly behind her and he yanked her back against his body with both hands on her hips. “Did you ever stop to consider that you got me so bent I can’t think about shit except getting inside you?” She could feel him hard against her. She stood very still. He gathered her hair and tugged it back into a low ponytail, securing it before dragging his nose up along the side of her throat, ghosting his lips over her pulse point. Her eyes closed, every part of her focused on making sure that was the only physical response she showed to his touch. And he thought she had him bent out of shape. She huffed air out of her nose and stepped out of his hold. She touched the ponytail, ascertaining that he had secured it with an elastic and not a rubber band before turning to face him.  


“It all comes back to my question to you from the clearing. What do you want from me.” Seeing him open his mouth she cut him off hurriedly, “I know you want to fuck me, I mean what do you want from me beyond that?” His mouth had dropped open when she dropped the f-bomb. She hadn’t referred to the possibility of sexual entanglement since he had her pinned against the wall in the palace after Shuri had healed her. He regained his equilibrium quickly however.  


“What makes you think I want anything more than that? You think therapy ain’t a way to get what I want from you?”  


She suddenly had a glimmer of understanding. “You don’t know what you want. Part of you wants to reconcile with your family but you know you can’t do that as you are, ergo the request for therapy. Part of you still wants them dead over what happened to your father. Part of you wants to leave and pretend you never heard of Wakanda.” She laughed a short humorless noise before continuing. “You don’t know what you want.”  


The look on his face scared her more than anything ever had in her life. He was in front of her before she realized he was going to move. In a few smooth movements he’d lifted her and swung her around to sit on the table. His hands were in her hair, disarranging the style he’d just given it and his mouth was on hers, hard and unforgiving. After several moments her body responded, legs spreading to allow him to step between them and align their lower bodies more closely. One of his hands fisted in her hair and tugged her head back roughly and he forced her mouth open and slid his tongue in. He was everywhere, invading her, crushing her defenses.  


It was several long moments before she recovered enough to push him away. At the first push of her hands against his chest he lifted his head but didn’t take his hand out of her hair or off her lower back where he’d been pressing them more firmly together. “Tell me I don’t know what I want, Doc.” His voice was husky, but the sound of her title from his lips had a bracing effect on her.  


“Let me go, please.” She was proud of how cool and detached her voice sounded. He looked angry again for a moment before his expression smoothed out and he took his hands off her before stepping back several paces. She stood on embarrassingly wobbly legs and walked out of the room, heading for the front door of the cabin before changing courses at the last moment and going into the bathroom. She leaned against the door and exhaled shakily. Looking around she decided it was an excellent time for a bath. She wasn’t hiding, it was a strategic retreat. That’s what she told herself as she tugged her top over her head and leaned over to turn on the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is When the Lights Go On Again--Vera Lynn


End file.
